


Whumptober 2020

by Rangergirl3



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Found Family, Gen, Hence the M rating just to be on the safe side, Hurt Keith (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Nothing graphic but it's definitely implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:08:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 14,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27144284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rangergirl3/pseuds/Rangergirl3
Summary: Thank you, my dear friends <3 I would not be writing without you <3 <3 <3
Relationships: Allura & Coran & Hunk & Keith & Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt & Shiro, Keith & Pidge | Katie Holt
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980199
Comments: 182
Kudos: 141





	1. Prompt 1: Hanging

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Haleykim84 (tristen84)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristen84/gifts), [Callaeidae3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callaeidae3/gifts).



When Keith opened his eyes, he wished he hadn't bothered. The view hadn't improved much from last time.

He was still hanging upside down from the center of the room by his ankles, with his wrists cuffed behind his back and cinched tightly to the chain holding his ankles in place. Their captor, a humanoid alien with insect-like eyes, was still standing near the door to the cell, chittering away rapidly over a comms unit.

Keith frowned, trying to pick up some kind of speech pattern that his universal translator might be able to decode, but it only crackled and buzzed.

Okay. So understanding the enemy's plan was out of the question. 

How about getting free?

From what he could see from a quick glance around the room, he was the only Paladin being held here, but...this spaceship had more than one level. Maybe the others were being held above him, or even below him.

Keith craned his neck back and down, towards what would normally be the floor, to see if the grate on the cell's floor allowed for him to see through, maybe to another level of the ship, but then footsteps, quick and light, came up right next to him. That was the only thing Keith heard before someone kicked him in the chest, both hard enough to bruise and powerful enough to cause him to swing back and forth from the chains holding his ankles to the ceiling.

There was an enraged shout from the ceiling above - or rather, below, his feet - God, Keith hated it when he couldn't properly orient himself - and even though it echoed strangely, it still sounded like Pidge.

"Hey! Fucking hell, just stop it, you jackass! He didn't do anything wrong!"

What with swinging from side to side, and being upside down, it was harder for Keith to find where Pidge was, but he managed it, in the end. She was in the cell above his, her face pressed close to the grate in the floor of her own cell, her expression fierce, her fingers clutching the mesh of the grate so tightly that her fingertips had gone pale.

" 's -'fine - 'dge-" Keith managed. He didn't want her to get into trouble with this thing for trying to stand up for him. "-s -f-fine-"

The only response their captor gave was a disdainful snort in Pidge's direction, and another glancing kick towards Keith. Keith wasn't able to avoid it, and it connected with his chest, in exactly the same spot as before.

The little air remaining in Keith's lungs left in a harsh cough, and for a terrible moment, he couldn't inhale. Without meaning to, Keith twisted in place, kicking and thrashing as he fought to get the air back into his lungs.

The alien moved into Keith's line of vision, blocking Pidge from view. Then it looked down at him, rested a long, stick-like finger on the space between Keith's eyes, and hissed.

Broken translator or not, its meaning was clear.

Stop. Now.

Keith couldn't answer, couldn't keep from physically struggling to breathe in again, even after he'd managed to get a few precious, desperate gasps of air back into his lungs. His heart was beating much, much too quickly.

The alien folded its arms in a very human-like gesture and regarded him coldly, as if Keith had purposefully ignored its direction. Then its head tilted to one side, as if considering an option or two.

Despite himself, Keith shuddered.


	2. Prompt 2: Collars

Still keeping its gazed firmly fixed on Keith, the alien with insect eyes reached into one of its jacket's pockets. When the alien's long, stick-like fingers pull out a long, thin strip of cloth and reach towards the Red Paladin's face, Keith's already labored breathing catches in his throat.

If he were on his feet, he would immediately step backwards, put his back up against a wall, do something, _anything_ , to keep that material from touching his skin.

Fingers that feel like sharp, dried out branches come to rest beneath Keith's chin and forces him to crane his neck farther backwards, so that Keith can't see Pidge anymore, not at all, and then start to tie the cloth -

Instinct takes over, and Keith immediately recoils backwards, trying to twist his face away from the long, sharp, insistent fingers, but he can't get away, and the alien only hisses again before grabbing hold of Keith's chin in one hand and continuing its work with the other, winding the fabric around and around the lower half of Keith's face, under his nose, over his mouth, and continuing until the ends of the long cloth are knotted tight behind the back of Keith's neck, creating a make-shift collar.

Somewhere above, Pidge is shouting again, asking Keith what's going on.

Keith has to breathe through his nose now, and there's no way he can answer her coherently.

The Red Paladin glares fiercely back up at the alien's multi-faceted eyes, anger and shame warring inside of his chest.

He didn't do anything wrong, but he's still being silenced for it.

And any moment now, Pidge will realize what's been done to him, and it will _hurt_ her.


	3. Prompt 3: Forced to their Knees

When Keith didn't answer her, a shiver of dreadful fear shot down Pidge's spine.

He would have answered her by now, if he could. Keith wasn't as talkative as Lance, or as open as Hunk, or as reassuring as Shiro, but he responded to her questions, even if it was just an inquisitive head-tilt, or one of those small half-smiles he would give her as she rambled on about (yet another) inspiring aspect of Olkarion tech. Even when he wasn't in the mood to respond in words, he still let her know that he was listening.

In the cell below, the alien with the insect-eyes stepped away from her friend, as if to examine Keith, to make sure he wouldn't - 

\- couldn't -

Oh. 

Oh, no.

* * *

A sound from the cell above made Keith turn his attention back to the grate.

Pidge is still there, staring down at him with wide, horrified eyes, and without warning, the humiliation in his chest flares up like a grease fire on a stove. 

Keith feels the flush of shame spreading down his neck and over his face, and he wishes, again, that he could say something, anything, or at manage to hide how badly this one thing terrifies him, and on a level so profound it steals away his ability to focus.

But he can't.

His head's beginning to ache, and the strain behind his eyes is making everything more difficult to see.

Even so, he senses Pidge's fury at his situation.

It's one thing to _choose_ not to speak.

It's another thing entirely to have that choice taken from you.

* * *

Now she knows why Keith can't answer her.

Her anger, already at the boiling point, explodes in what she later tells herself had been a roar of fury, and not a half-choked sob of rage and indignation.

How dare they.

How _dare_ they do this to her _friend_.

* * *

A few steps away from Keith, the alien captor finishes adjusting a device on its belt. With a short, brief _click_ , something in the room shifts.

It's only when Keith falls _up,_ towards the ceiling, that he realizes that it's his cell's gravity.

It's been reversed.

* * *

Pidge startles backwards in shock when two seperate _thuds_ slam against the other side of her cell's floor. Their captor has the ability to reverse a room's _gravity_?

She hadn't thought that kind of technology could be so localized, let alone portable.

Hell's bells, this is _bad_.

There's all kinds of ways this will make escape more difficult.

* * *

It takes Keith's head a moment to stop spinning.

Is up...down, now?

Or...is down, _up_?

The tip of a boot connects hard with Keith's ribs, and he grunts in pain before he can stop himself. The makeshift gag muffles the sound, but it doesn't matter. Not to Keith.

He had never, _ever_ wanted to make that noise again.

Especially not where Pidge might hear it.

His thoughts are interrupted by another swift kick to the ribs, followed by more alien speech, all chittering rage and -

_'-Half-Galra.'_

'Oh, _sure_ ,' Keith thinks. ' _Now_ my translator's working.'

He slits one eye open just in time to see Pidge's fearful expression on the far side of the grate.

* * *

"Keith!" 

Pidge tries to reach through the grate, but only her fingertips can fit through.

"- okay - okay - so, so - uh - um -"

She swallows down the anger rising in her chest. She can't use it, not now, not yet. Not until it's time to act. For now, she tries to focus on assessing his condition.

"B-blink once for yes - and - and t-twice for no - okay?"

Keith's other eye slowly opens, and he tilts his chin down a fraction of an inch in the smallest of nods.

"Do you think - anything's broken?" 

Slight hesitation, followed by two blinks. 

Pidge jerks her chin up and down in a short, harsh nod that she wishes seemed more affirming and calming, but she's only just restraining herself from trying to pry the grate away. She needs a plan first, and right now, what matters most is assessing Keith's current condition.

"O-okay. Um - any - trouble b-breathing?"

* * *

Movement rustles behind him, but Keith holds eye contact with her and blinks once, and Pidge blinks back tears and nods again, to let him know that she understands, but then Keith is dragged away from the grate. Long, stick-like fingers wrap around the back of Keith's neck, and for an awful, terrible moment, he thinks that this thing will kill him, strangle him, right here and now, but he's wrong.

Instead, the alien with the insect-like eyes raises Keith up to stare at him before slamming Keith onto his knees again, this time with the Red Paladin's face pressed directly against the grate.

Pidge slams an ineffective fist against the deceptively thin metal links, calling Keith's name again, but her voice is drowned out by the short, harsh words of their captor.

_'-illed my tribe. Retribution will be taken.'_

Something that seems like liquid mercury glimmers through the air and begins to coalesce into an orb above him, but Keith doesn't see it. All he can see is Pidge, now slamming herself against the grate, heedless of the way the sharp edges of the metal catches and tears at her skin.

Keith doesn't want Pidge to see his fear, so he closes his eyes. More than anything, though, he _is_ afraid, and he can't help but press his forehead harder against the metal grate in an effort to be as close to Pidge as possible before...before this thing decides to kill him. 

Pidge's efforts to break through the grate do not slow down, not in the slightest, but Keith can feel the tips of her fingers against his forehead.

It's not much, but it's something.


	4. Prompt 4: Running out of time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed that instead of making each of these a separate 'work', I've finally herded them all into separate chapters for the entire Whumptober 2020. 
> 
> It's really just for convenience's sake - it saves me the effort of creating the same tags for literally every chapter! :D
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading - I LOVE to hear from readers! Comments, kudos, messages over on Tumblr, I love 'em all! :-) 
> 
> Happy Whumptober 2020 extended...I did this on purpose (I mean, I didn't, but hey, it worked out well, huh?) :-)

Keith hates this.

He hates having an enemy at his back, but most of all, he hates not being able to _do_ anything about it.

He can’t fight, he can’t run, he can’t even muster the courage to open his eyes to look at Pidge one last time.

* * *

Pidge knows she can’t break through the barrier between her and Keith. She knows this, but she doesn’t let it stop her from trying, all the same.

* * *

The alien tightens its grip around the back of Keith’s neck once again.

Keith grinds his teeth together in an effort to keep quiet as his headache begins to spike unbearably. The alien’s grip is tight, much too tight. Keith can still breathe, for now, but his head...especially the at base of his skull...

It _hurts._

* * *

Pidge starts backwards in shock when the shimmering orb of silver liquid slowly begins to separate into drops that spin away, landing one by one onto the back of Keith’s head and neck, combining and congealing as they connect with each other to form a silver band that begins to spread across the skin.

* * *

The first few drops of silver are cold enough to burn.

Keith swallows back a whimper, trying not to show just how scared he is, but as the drops increase their rate of fall, the pain builds until every heartbeat promises to bring searing, white-hot agony.

He doesn't have the courage to look at Pidge. 

He doesn't know what this alien intends to do, but it's sure to be fatal.

Then Pidge’s voice is closer to his ear.

“Please, don’t -“

She’s stopped slamming herself against the grate. Instead, she's scrabbling at it frantically, desperately trying to make eye contact with the alien on the other side.

"He’s not - he’s not your enemy - please, _please_ don’t hurt him, please -"

Their captor’s glittering eyes do not shift their gaze.

"My tribe died slowly. It’s only right that I pay him back in kind."

* * *

As the liquid metal begins to creep forwards, threatening to cover his face, Keith wishes a lot of things in that moment.

He wishes that he wasn't so afraid, and that Pidge weren't about to witness something that very well might haunt her for years to come. 

But most of all?

He wishes that he weren't about to die.

* * *

The silver liquid is, eventually, going to keep Keith from breathing.

Pidge wants to scream, to break every bone in the alien's body, but she can't manage words. Not now.

Keith still hasn't opened his eyes.

Pidge's vision begins to tunnel.

She's going to black out.

There's too much going on.

Her friend is afraid, and in pain, and it's only going to get worse, and she can't do anything to stop it.

Just as she's about to begin hyperventilating, part of her notices a door swing open in the far side of Keith’s cell. Another insect-eyed alien, dressed in a similar uniform to the first, enters the cell and calls out for the other one.

"Lesrik, where did - oh."

The new alien’s gaze comes to rest upon the ceiling, and its thin eyebrows rise in what seems to be a mix of surprise, followed by slight annoyance.

"I see your little gravity experiment worked, then."

It leans against the door frame.

"Your ability to _wait_ , as our queen ordered...less so."

Lesrick - the alien keeping Keith pinned against the grate - does not look back down at its fellow as it answered.

"What do you want, Meltorix?"

Meltorix sighs before answering.

"The cage is ready. We’re supposed to bring the prisoners to the gathering room."

He scratches at the side of his face, as if slightly bored, or considering his next words carefully.

" _Alive_ , I believe. At least until things have been settled accordingly."

Lesrick growls, then, in obvious frustration, snaps his fingers. The droplets of silver slowly, reluctantly, shift position.

Pidge watches in horrified wonder as the seemingly molten metal twists and folds in on itself until a thin silver collar completely encircles Keith’s neck.

As the ends met and twisted into a complex knot around the base of his throat, Keith's breathing hitches painfully. It's only then that he opens his eyes and looks back at Pidge first in confusion, then in slowly dawning realization.

He's not dead. Not yet.

Pidge presses her forehead to his as best she can with the thin metal links still separating them.

"Hey," she whispers, hoping that she sounds encouraging instead of on the verge of hyperventilating, passing out, or both. "Hey, hang in there, o-okay?"

Keith holds her gaze and blinks, once.

* * *

"Fine," Lesrick snarls down at his fellow shipmate. "I'll bring the half-Galra to the queen." His upper lip curls into a half-sneer. "Happy?"

Meltorix yawns and turns to leave the cell. " _Thrilled_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to stick closer to the given prompts, but sometimes these things get a bit away from what I drafted on paper - and that's okay! :-) 
> 
> Comments and kudos are amazing!!! :D :D They always make my day!! <3 <3


	5. Prompt 5: Where do you think you're going?

Despite her shaky attempt at reassurance, Keith can see the way Pidge's eyes glisten with moisture before she closes them.

She was scared for him.

Keith rests his forehead against hers as best he can. Even through the residual pain left by the unknown metal against his skin still throbs in time to his heartbeat, he's just so glad his friend is nearby. It feels selfish, somehow, because it means that she's in danger too, but at least - at least he isn't alone.

Lesrick is muttering something to himself as he unlocks the shackles keeping Keith's ankles attached to the ceiling-turned-floor, but Keith can't make out the details.

Something about...precautions?

It's then that an object made of metal presses against the base of Keith's skull, and Keith’s mind goes white with terror before he realizes what’s happening.

Lesrick has just attached a _lead_ to the newly made metal collar around Keith’s neck.

Even now, the alien is tugging on the chain, testing the tension.

Nausea roils in Keith’s stomach.

Please, no.

Not again.

* * *

Then the gravity shifts, _again._ Everything returns to normal, and Keith slams into the ground, pulled away from the grating before he can say goodbye.

The metal collar around his neck goes a little tighter, just enough to make it harder to breathe, and it forces Keith to struggle up onto his knees to alleviate the pressure around his neck.

It’s hard, because his wrists are still cuffed behind his back, and his ankles are still shackled together, too, but he manages it, because if he doesn’t, Lesrik might tighten the collar again, just to make it clear who’s in charge, and then Keith won't be able to breathe at all.

At the grating above him, Pidge is shouting, but Keith’s head aches too much to parse the sounds into meaning. It's all he can do to focus on the _here_ and _now_ , not on - not on -

* * *

"Hey! Hey, _jackass_!"

Pidge slams her fists against the grate again, trying to get to her friend. 

"Hey, jackass, stop being such a - a - _jackass_!"

Then guards enter her cell, and she's dragged away from the grating, but Pidge’s epithets continue, even as she’s dragged out of her cell and forced down the corridor, further and further away, until finally, the echoes fade into silence.

* * *

Keith watches her go in quiet despair.

She's gone.

He's alone.

Then a hand, its fingers as twisted and gnarled as the trunk of a storm-weathered oak, grips Keith’s chin and forces it up, until Keith’s throat is completely exposed.

Lesrik’s fingers tighten their grip, and Keith opens his eyes just in time to see Lesrik lean down until their foreheads are almost touching. The alien’s expression is cold, but Keith senses the pent-up fury behind it.

"If you try to escape, I will kill you."

Keith’s already labored breathing hitches as Lesrick yanks on the already short leash, bringing Keith’s eyes up to meet his own.

"But first," Lesrik hisses, "I will kill the others. And then, and only then, will I end your life."

The alien’s grip on Keith’s chin increases its pressure, bringing tears to the Red Paladins' eyes.

"Do you understand me?"

Keith’s heart constricts in fear. He can’t nod. He can barely breathe as it is. All the same, he maintains eye contact with Lesrik and blinks, once.

Yes.

Lesrik’s expression darkens, and his voice becomes even more dangerous.

"I _said_ , do you _understand_ me?"

Even though he risks cutting off his air, Keith tries to nod, desperate to convey, somehow, that he does understand, and that he won’t try to escape.

The alien frowns, searching Keith’s face for an answer. 

Then it huffs, as if in exasperation, reaches up, and pulls the gag a little ways out of Keith’s mouth, just enough to allow its prisoner to give a short response.


	6. Prompt 6: Please..

It takes Keith a few precious seconds to gather himself. Lesrik won’t wait for an answer forever. The alien’s fingers are already beginning to push the gag back towards his mouth when Keith is finally able to break through the fear long enough to speak.

"-I -und-der-s-s-stand," he manages. Lesrik, having gotten the answer he had waited for, nods once in satisfaction before turning Keith’s face harshly to one side, in order to replace the gag more easily. Keith flinches violently when the edge of the rough fabric brushes against the side of his face once more, causing Lesrick to growl in anger.

"Don’t fight me on this, boy."

Keith only shudders in answer, but before he can help it, he’s speaking the words that, up until now, were only ever inside his head.

"-'m n- _not_ -" he whispers, but Lesrick doesn’t seem to hear, because the alien just grips Keith's chin even more tightly, as if intent on keeping Keith from biting him.

Keith wishes he could convince this person that he's not a rabid animal, he's _not_ , but he knows it would be useless. Even so, Keith tries, again, because oh, god, he can’t do this, not again, not without something breaking - maybe forever this time - inside his head, please, please, _please_ -

"I-w-won’t - b-bite,’ he stammers. ‘I- p-pr-prom-m-s’ -"

Lesrick snorts disbelivingly, reaches up, grabs a handful of Keith’s hair, and yanks his head backwards, intent on replacing the gag as swiftly as possible before taking his prisoner to the queen.

"Just. Stay. Still."

* * *

Lesrick isn’t expecting what happens next.

At those words, the half-Galra goes as still as if he were turned into stone, even as his eyes become glassy and unfocused. He stares off into the far distance of the room as if he can no longer see or hear anything around him.The abrupt shift from fearful awareness to a seemingly mindless state is disconcerting.

It takes Lesrick by surprise, but by the time he’s decided to ignore the strange occurrence and continue his work, the half-Galra’s fallen like a stone, back down onto the ground, where it begins to twitch and quiver as if in fever or sickness.

At first, Lesrick thinks that the half-Galra is trying to wrest its way free, out of the cuffs and collar, but almost before the thought crosses his mind, he‘s forced to rule it out, because when the dark purple eyes regain awareness, the boy only blinks, lets out a small groan of pain between his teeth, and rolls onto his side, curling into as small a ball as he can manage, while still facing Lesrick.

Even though the half-Galra is still on the ground, he’s no longer spasming in place. Instead, the prisoner’s movement has been reduced to involuntary shivers, and its face is almost ghostly white underneath the bruises. It’s obvious that the half-Galra is exerting great effort to keep himself as still as possible.

_What in the Queen's name is going on?_

* * *

" - ‘m - s-s-sorry,’ Keith stammers. He tries to make eye contact with Lesrick, but it’s too much. The headache’s gotten worse, but he has to comply. He _has_ too, or Pidge-

_They’ll kill Pidge._

Footsteps. Lesrik is coming closer.

Keith’s mind screams at him to get up, to fight, to do something, but Keith refuses to put his friend in any more danger.

A terrifying thought strikes him.

That other alien said _prisoners_.

The others.

They have the others, too.

_What if Lesrik thinks Keith was trying to escape?_

The footsteps have stopped.A small creak of metal sounds next to to his head. Keith senses that Lesrik is leaning forwards, looking directly down at him. Keith wants to shrink away from the looming figure, but he forces himself to talk, all the same.

"I d-didn’t - mean to - f-fall - ‘m -‘m s-sorry -"

If they kill his friends for his failure, Keith will never forgive himself, never.

* * *

Lesrik almost jumps backward in startlement when the half-Galra opens its eyes.

It's... _crying_...?

Lesrik blinks, once, confused.

* * *

Keith can’t tell if Lesrik is listening, but he has to try.

"-‘s - ‘s not -their -f-fault - "

_It’s not their fault I fucked up._

He can’t keep the tears from running down his cheeks. God, he’s so, _so_ tired.

" - ‘m - s-s-sorry - please - don’t - h-hurt th-them-"

* * *

It sounds like it actually _cares_.

Lesrik hadn't thought a Galra - any Galra - would care about - well, anything, really, other than the Empire. They were very good at caring about the Empire. Fanatical, even.

Or at least, the Galra who had slaughtered his tribe had been fanatics. 

This one...

This one was _very_ strange.

For a Galra, anyway.

* * *

In the end, Lesrik’s fingers twitch, but he leaves the comms unit on his belt as he gets back to his feet, reluctantly convinced that his prisoner was not, in fact, attempting to either escape or rebel.

"Well. Um. Just - uh, don’t do that again."

* * *

All Keith wants to do is pass out, but he tries to give a good answer.

* * *

The boy’s head twitches from side to side in what can only be an attempt at a nod.

"-‘ll - t-t-try..."

Lesrik’s eyes narrow at once. The slight hesitation in his voice is gone, if it had ever been there in the first place.

"I suggest you explain that statement, halfbreed. _Now_."

* * *

Keith’s chest aches, but he forces himself to form the words.

"I-I c-can’t - "

His vision’s fading, but he can see the communicator light blinking on and off. He coughs before continuing, unaware that the comms unit is already active. Right now, all Keith cares about is his team, and at the moment, honesty seems to be the only way he can help them.

" - ‘s not - s-somethin’ I - c-can - c-control - ‘m -‘m sorry -"

Without warning, another set of contortions seize Keith’s body , and his words are cut off.

When its over, Keith opens his eyes to see Lesrik leaning over him once more, impatience evident in his tone and posture.

"You can’t walk, can you?"

It’s all Keith can do to keep his eyes open, but somehow, he manages a small shake of the head in answer.

Lesrick huffs in frustration.

" _Fine_."

He rises to his feet, irritation clearly defined in every movement.

"Then I’ll just have to carry you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are super awesome!!! I literally love them! :D <3 <3 Also, it helps me know which moments you loved, and stuff like that! :D :D <3 <3


	7. Prompt 7: Carrying

Lesrik folds his arms for a moment, staring down at the prisoner, multi-faceted eyes shining oddly in the dim light. He mutters to himself under his breath.

“How, though?”

He tilts his head to one side, clearly thinking hard.

“I could try…carrying him over my shoulder, I suppose…no…hmm…perhaps…”

Keith doesn’t answer. The alien’s tone of voice isn’t questioning, exactly, just…contemplative, like it’s thinking through the logistics of getting the prisoner out of the room, down the hallway, and finally, to…

Well, Keith doesn’t know exactly where Lesrik is going to take him. He doesn’t know how far away it is, or how long it might take them to get there. If he were the only Paladin captured, he would try to escape…but he’s not the only one being held prisoner.

The others are somewhere here. If Keith tries to escape, they’ll get killed.

Not that he could even try, in his current state. His ribs ache, his eyes burn with fatigue, but the worst part by far is waiting for whatever is going to come next.

“I suppose I could just…drag him there. Yes. That would be best.”

To his own surprise, Keith’s almost relieved. He hates the idea of being carried somewhere by an enemy, especially over a distance.

Sure, it’s not like getting dragged on the ground is _fun_ , but Keith would rather avoid close contact as much as he can.

* * *

Even though Keith knows that its coming, he still flinches when Lesrick’s hand reaches down towards him. He can’t help it. It’s a reaction that’s ingrained into him at this point. Every time anyone reaches towards his face, Keith’s heart goes cold, his muscles tighten, and his vision starts to swirl in panic.

Thankfully, Lesrick doesn’t appear to notice. The alien just continues on with his task. In a series of swift movements, he’s adjusted the cuffs keeping Keith’s wrists behind the Red Paladin’s back so that he can pull Keith’s wrists upwards, over the Red Paladin’s head.

Once that’s done, Lesrick turns towards the door and starts to drag Keith out of the cell. Just before the cell door slides closed, Keith glances back up towards the grate, and sends a silent goodbye to the last place he saw Pidge.

He knows it sounds stupid, and that Lanceand Hunk would think he was crazy if they ever knew, but…

Throughout his life, Keith had been taken to so many places, and so often, he never had a chance to say goodbye before -before he was taken away, or before people left.

All the same, it _was_ stupid, saying goodbye to a room, but Keith really didn’t care. Really, he was just glad he'd gotten a chance to see Pidge before they’d been separated, even though they hadn’t been kept in the same cell.

Lesrik turns down a different hallway, and Keith’s center of balance is thrown off for a moment. His right wrist flares in discomfort, but Keith grits his teeth together, breathes out slowly, and stays quiet.

He doesn’t want to be gagged again. Of course, he won’t have a choice in the matter if Lesrick or the Queen decide it’s necessary, but he’s going to try to avoid that particular unpleasantness as long as possible.

In that same moment, Lesrick stops dead in his tracks.

“Highness,” the alien says. “My apologies for the delay. The prisoner -“

“-will be dealt with appropriately,” a different voice answered. “Thank you, Lesrick. Now, please bring it here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm really, really trying to get this Whumptober done before the New Year. :D *fingers crossed for luck*
> 
> I absolutely LOVE reading your comments!! :D They really help me, especially when I'm low on energy and it's difficult to get into the writing spirit <3 <3 <3


	8. Prompt 8: Where Did Everybody Go?

As he’s dragged backwards, deeper into the throne room, Keith swallows nervously, wishing he could at least _see_ what he’s being dragged towards. For a brief moment, he considers looking around, to try and see if he can figure out which one of the many aliens in here is the Queen, but he’s so _tired_.

It’s not just his eyes that burn with fatigue. Various muscles ache and tighten, the pain flaring up sporadically, without any sort of pattern or predictability. Every joint is stiff, and even small movements cause short, deep, stabbing flashes of pain in his muscles, enough so that it's almost impossible to think clearly.

Lesrick comes to a halt once more. As soon as he does so, the alien’s grip shifts slightly, and some of the chains clink and shift as Keith's wrists are brought down in front of him and - surprise, surprise - locked into place once more.

Keith keeps his head down. His shoulders burn, and the skin around his wrists and ankles _ache_ , but he tells himself that at least he wasn’t dragged into the throne room by his ankles. That would...that would have had to be much more humiliating than this, right?

Even as Lesrick puts the key to the chains away, the thought crosses Keith’s mind that this is _really_ fucked up. He has a _preference_ as to how an enemy takes him somewhere that he has no say in.

Footsteps sound on the floor behind Keith’s back, and then clawed fingers grab his shoulder and spin him around, presumably to face the Queen. It happens so quickly, Keith’s head spins. Although he's still in a hunched sitting position, he almost loses his balance. He would have fallen onto his side if Lesrick hadn't kept a tight grip on the -

Keith's throat constricts.

_On the lead._

He doesn't know if Lesrick was simply trying to keep Keith from toppling over, or if it was another unspoken reminder of who's in control, but it doesn't matter. Once the Red Paladin gets his balance back, his air isn't restricted any longer, but it's still so difficult to keep breathing. The pressure against his windpipe is barely there, but -

He doesn't want the collar to get any tighter. 

Bad memories whisper in his mind. Keith can't keep himself from beginning to tremble, or from trying to raise his head.

He only gets a glimpse - _lots_ of aliens with diamond-like eyes, rough stone floor, simple wooden throne - before someone slams the palm of their hand against the back of his head, forcing Keith’s forehead down towards the ground, in what must be a gesture of respect.

 ** _Ow_** , Keith snarls, but only in his mind. He's almost grateful for the silent comeback. It keeps the terror from taking hold, even if it's only for a moment. _Geez, some warning next time_.

Something in those words remind him of Lance.

Keith’s heart goes cold in fear.

_His team._

_**Where** is his team?_

Instinctively, Keith tries once more to raise his head, so he can look around the room again, see if he can find where the others are, but the pressure against the back of his skull increases, even as the guards on either side of him force Keith to rise onto his knees, shifting his position until he’s kneeling on the ground, leaning forwards and _still_ facing the floor.

“Show proper respect for the Queen,” one of the palace guards hisses into his ear, “-or I’ll cut out your eyes.”

Keith winces, closing his eyes instinctively, but he doesn’t dare answer the guard back with words.

He really, _really_ doesn’t want to lose the ability to talk again.

Even as he thinks it, the room falls completely silent, except for one voice.

“Your Majesty,” Lesrick says. “This is the…unique one.”

Forget the guard’s threat of taking his eyes. Keith couldn’t speak, even if he wanted to. Fear has stolen the words away.

His team might be nearby, but…

He feels so _alone._


	9. Prompt 9: Take Me Instead

The Queen’s voice resounds throughout the chamber.

“Well done, Lesrick. You honor the spirits of the fallen with your actions.”

Lesrick is still standing near enough for Keith to hear the catch in the alien’s voice when he speaks once more.

“Thank you, your Majesty.”

He steps away from Keith, back into the crowd that now gathers closer together, but the tension on the lead doesn't lessen. Lesrick must have given it to one of the guards. That, or the lead is a _lot_ longer than Keith thought it was. 

There’a a brief pause, but Keith still can’t look up, so he focuses on keeping still. It’s a lot harder than it should be. The guards have a tight grip on each of his shoulders, and they’ve pulled him into an upright kneeling position. The chains around his ankles and wrists are _heavy_.

The strain on his muscles is…well. It doesn’t promise to be pleasant.

“So. You are the half-breed.”

The Queen clearly wasn’t asking him a question. Even so, Keith figures that honesty is the only advantage he has here.

“Ye-”

The soldier on his right side growls, almost inaudibly. There’s a ripple through the crowd, a muttering and a swaying that almost reminds Keith of a fierce wind blowing through tall grass.

“-s, your - M-Majesty.”

The guard’s growl recedes, but Keith knows that it won’t be for long. He angers these people just by _existing_. There aren’t enough courtly pleasantries in _existence_ to get him through this situation without further unpleasantness.

“Hmm.” 

The Queen doesn’t sound mollified. If anything, his answer only causes her anger to flare even brighter.

* * *

The person forcing Keith to face the floor changes tactics, gripping Keith’s hair and yanking his head back again, so Keith has no choice but to look directly towards the Queen’s throne.

When he does, his heart nearly stops in fear.

Behind the throne, there’s a cage. It’s the only thing in the room that’s made completely of metal. Inside it -

His team.

His _team’s_ in there.

The Queen notices his reaction, and waves a well-manicured hand towards the metal bars.

“Oh, yes,” she says. “ _That_.”

She rises to her feet, an easy motion that almost succeeds in hiding the way her fingers have curled into claws.

Oh, _great_.

She’s pissed.

So, _so_ pissed.

She descends from her throne, slowly circling around Keith as she speaks.

“Sight is the only sense that can currently pass through those bars, I’m afraid,” she purrs, never slowing, never stopping.

Keith can't help but shudder at her words as she disappears from view, directly behind him.

“They were making entirely too much noise.”

Then, she comes back into view, and her smile is sharp.

“Anyway, I want them to hear what _you_ have to say, false Paladin.”

It takes a moment for Keith to understand.

His team can see and hear him, but…

He swallows.

Even though he can see them, he won’t be able to hear them. Not unless the Queen takes down whatever spell or protocol she's put on the cage.

_That…that sort of makes sense. It’s easier to focus on one thing, rather than on five._

The Queen’s voice wrenches his attention away from his team.

“-ich is it going to be, half-breed?”

She's leaning in closer to him, and it takes all of Keith’s fortitude not to recoil away.

“Victory, or death?”

Keith doesn’t understand. What is she asking him?

* * *

Keith's mind is racing, but his words fail him.

“-I - I d- - “

Damn stammer. Not now. Not _now_.

He swallows, tries agin.

"-d-d-"

His throat closes up, and panic threatens to silence him completely. The Queen’s eyes have already narrowed in rising annoyance.

“I will simplify the issue."

She raises one hand, pointing its claws towards the cage behind her throne.

“Shall I spare them?”

Her wrist rotates, pointing at Keith’s chest.

“Or _you_?”

Behind the throne, Pidge is shaking her head from side to side in an emphatic **_No_**. Lance is still supporting a pale Hunk, and Shiro’s slamming a fist against the bars, as if a consistent attack might free the other Paladins from their prison. For all of the Black Paladin's efforts, everything is still completely silent. 

Keith almost smiles back at his friends, but he can’t muster the heart to do it.

“Well?”

The Queen’s diamond-like eyes glint red, and she’s crossed her arms, as if impatiently waiting for him to answer her.

“Answer me now, half-breed, or I will kill everyo-“

Keith speaks over her, stumbling over his words in his haste to get them out. “M-my t-team. They - they l-l-live, okay?”

The Queen tilts her head to one side.

“Interesting,” she murmurs. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

She glances over her shoulder towards the cage. Shiro’s eyes, already flat and hard, almost burn in rage as he fixes his glare on the Queen’s face. Pidge drags her fingers through her already-mussed hair, mouthing inaudible curses. Hunk’s lower lip quivers, and Lance only hangs his head.

Something in the Queen's posture shifts ever so slightly, and in terror, Keith senses her mood begin to shift. Desperately, Keith finds the words he needs to take her attention away from his friends.

"-y-you w-want p-payb-back?"

Her red-tinted eyes turn back towards him, and just for a moment, Keith locks eyes with her. 

"- k-killing - th-them - won't - w-won't f-fix a-anything."

Her head tilts to one side, as if in thought.

"True," she replies. "But then, I'm not trying to fix something."

Her eyes go completely red, then, just for an instant, and a violent grief shades her words, dark and angry and furious.

"I," she continues, red sparks beginning to crackle from her fingertips, "seek _retribution_."

Keith swallows again, but he doesn't break eye contact with her.

"-'kay," he manages, and he straightens his spine as much as he can, to make himself a more obvious target. 

Keep her attention. At all cost, keep her attention away from the others.

"-t-take it, th-then."


	10. Prompt 10: They Look So Pretty When They Bleed

Keith’s heartbeat pounds inside his ears.

_Please._

_Please, please, please -_

“Well,” the Queen finally says, uncrossing her arms. “I must say, I _am_ surprised.”

She raises a hand, tilting Keith’s chin up so she can stare deep into his eyes. Keith refuses to look away from her, even though the unwanted physical contact makes his skin crawl.

“And - then - then it’s _done_ , okay?”

It’s difficult to keep his voice steady. Keith’s throat is tight. He can’t bear to look back at his team. Not yet. But if he is going to die, he wants to know, for damn certain, that the people he cares for will walk away from this.

“You’ll - you’ll get w-what you want - and - and they live.”

A half-smile crosses her face, and she nods once in agreement.

“All right, then -”

She drags a fingernail across his throat before turning her back on him, ascending a few steps to the throne. Tiny red beads of blood smear down across Keith’s neck, but he ignores it. He’s more than certain that tiny amount of blood loss is _nothing_ compared to what’s coming.

“- _half-breed_.”

She spits it over her shoulder as if it’s a curse. Hell, for her people, it probably is.

Keith can't help but flinch at the hatred aimed at him. 

She turns just in time to see his reaction. A cold smile crosses her face, and she settles back in her seat, satisfied that her barb hit home.

“Now, at last, we shall obtain justice for our lost.”

With that, the Queen snaps her fingers. Behind her, the cage glimmers momentarily, and then, and only then, does the sound comes rushing back.

* * *

The other Paladins’ shouting is so loud. It hits Keith like a wave, even as more guards join the ones holding him in place, blocking the cage from sight. Lesrik is one of them, but Keith doesn’t even glance back up at him.

Instead, Keith just clenches his fists, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and waits for something to happen.

If he’s lucky, he’ll die quickly, without unnecessary pain or humiliation.

If he’s _really_ lucky, the others won’t see it happen at all.

His friends’ voices are - they’re so _loud_. Lance, Hunk, Shiro and Pidge, their voices blended together in one terrible noise of fury and terror.

The Queen orders the guards to draw their weapons. Keith braces himself for the death-stroke, but instead, there's only the sound of sharp steel cutting through the air behind him, in front of him, to every side, is -

It’s terrifying.

Keith wishes the guards would just kill him, and get it over with.

This listening, this _waiting_ , is torture.

Pidge is shrieking that she’ll never forgive him for this, and that he’s a _jerk_ , and a lot of other things that blur into white noise as something sharp nicks his shoulder, and then, without stopping, brushes past his ear.

Keith bites the inside of his cheek, trying to distract himself. He wishes he could have said goodbye.

“ ‘m sorry, Pidge -” he whispers. “ ‘m s-sorry -”

The blades around him continue to whirl and spin, sometimes inflicting slashes and cuts, sometimes not. Keith keeps his eyes closed, but he can’t stop himself from trembling. With every awful moment, he expects a blade to end his life, or one of the many glancing cuts to hit an artery.

They're drawing this out. In a way, these terrible moments are a torture all their own.

* * *

After what feels like an eternity, the Queen calls out for the guards to stop.

A forced silence descends upon the throne room once more, and Keith’s breath leaves his lungs without warning. He slumps forwards, breathing harsh and fast.

When the pain hits him, it's going to be awful. But it hasn't fully sunk in. Not yet. 

But he’s alive.

His chest and torso are covered in bloody cuts, most shallow, some deeper, but -

He’s still alive.

* * *

“Did you think it would be a swift death, half-breed?”

The Queen is smiling down at him, but it’s not a kind smile. It’s cold as winter, sharp as knives, and as bitter as the north wind.

“I assure you. We have barely begun.”


	11. Prompt 11: Crying

As the guards sheathe their swords and step away from Keith, Pidge lets out a horrible cry of dismay. As if momentarily distracted, the Queen glances over her shoulder towards the sound, then smiles. 

"Ah. Yes, I keep forgetting."

She snaps her fingers once more, and sighs in momentary pleasure as the cage's sound barrier is enforced once more.

* * *

When Keith looks up again, the circle of guards have stepped away from him, just enough to bring the occupants of the cage back into view.

The Queen is still smiling down at him, hands folded serenely in front of her.

“Well, false Paladin?” she asks. “What say you now?” She leans forwards once more, a strange, dangerous curiosity in her eyes.

Keith ignores her. Instead of answering, his gaze is locked onto the occupants of the cage.

* * *

Lesrick sees the moment the Queen’s smiling facade cracks. When the condemned prisoner does not answer her question, the light in her eyes once more darkens to red. She springs up from her seat, descends the stairs, and in a single swift movement, grabs hold of the half-Galra’s face and lifts him straight off of the ground. Lesrick almost doesn't give the lead enough slack in time. 

The last thing he wants to do at this moment is distract the Queen from taking her vengeance.

No, he tells himself. No, she's taking retribution. There's a difference. Isn't there?

If there was, it was hard to tell.

* * *

“I _said_ ,” she snarls, and her rage is terrifying to behold, “ _what say you now_?”

The half-Galra's reply is unintelligible. 

When he still doesn’t answer, she snarls once more and slams him back onto the ground. Even as his knees crash back into the stone floor, she’s yanking his chin back up to face her again.

“Do you _still_ wish for death?” Her words are venom, and her eyes are like scorching suns as she tightens her grip, forcing his chin up as high as it would go.

* * *

Keith cries out as her nails dig into his skin. It's a small, muffled, terrified sound, and he _hates_ himself for making it, just as he had before, all that time ago.

Someone laughs. It's a high, cruel, shattered sound. It reminds him of broken glass. 

_Please, not again. **Please**._

As the Queen's fingers tighten their grip, another choking whimper escapes from Keith's throat, and tears form in the corners of his eyes.

_Please let go. Please, please let go. It hurts. Please, please, please_

Crushing pressure against his face. His neck hurts. It hurts so bad.

* * *

Only when the first tears slide down from Keith's eyes does the Queen smile that cold, wintry smile and loosen her grip. When she speaks, her words echo hollowly throughout the throne room.

“My people _begged_ for death. Before I kill you, I want you to plead for the same kindness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did any of you see the reference I made to another one of my stories there?! :D :D
> 
> Hint: It's 'Shards of Glass'
> 
> I LOVE reading your comments!! <3 <3 <3 They always, ALWAYS make my day! :D :D <3 <3 <3


	12. Prompt 12: Broken Down

The Queen takes a few steps back, the better to see her handiwork.

The false Paladin's chin has fallen forwards onto its chest. She wonders, fleetingly, if it is trying to hide its tears from the room at large. But, as the shoulders are shaking and its' entire form trembles in either fatigue or fear (or both), that is something of a lost cause.

She smiles, turning in place and once more ascending to her throne. She sits once more, ignoring the metal cage behind her as if it does not exist.

She returns her attention to the scene in front of her in time to see the half-Galra begin convulsing.

 _Strange_.

She'd thought it would take longer for her magic to begin its work.

Those few times her fingernails broke through his skin, she'd infused the cuts with a potent charm. In researching his unique biological markers, she had discovered certain traits that she could manipulate as she pleased. Not bodily transformation, sadly. That was much too complicated to set into motion in the limited time she'd had before securing his capture.

But manipulating his pain receptors and his genetic code so as to set off a series of catastrophic effects?

That was _easy_.

* * *

Keith didn't know if the other Paladins could see him like this. A small part of him wished he had the courage to at least glance in their direction, but he clenched his teeth together. 

No. 

He didn't want to hurt them like that. It was bad enough that they were stuck in a cage and forced to watch this sick charade. He wasn't going to make it worse for them, if he could help it.

At that moment, he heard the Queen give an order. 

"Prepare the brand."

Fear seized hold of Keith's heart, and he thought he only shivered, but he must have done _something_ , begun shaking, or maybe trembling, because the guards on either side of him tightened their hold on his arms and - and Keith's mind just sort of froze. 

Everything that happened in the next few moments felt as if he were merely an observer.

* * *

Lesrick only noticed the false Paladin's situation deteriorating rapidly because of the collar. Or, more specifically, the lead attached to the collar. Once the Queen had returned to her throne, he had, of course, made certain that the collar was loose enough so that the prisoner could still breathe. The Queen wanted him able to talk, after all. 

Lesrick told himself that was the only reason he had adjusted the lead's tension, but it seemed (to him, anyway), that something about the Red Paladin was different than a few moments before. (Ruling out the various nicks, cuts, and slash marks on his torso, of course.) 

It was only when the the prisoner began moving strangely that the guards holding him in place took action.

Keith's head twisted back and forth on its neck as if its owner were trying to see everywhere in the room at once, but his eyes were open, glassy, and sightless. Lesrick gaped at the strange sight before recalling that the prisoner had looked like this once before, back in the cells.

The guard on the prisoner's left side shouted a warning to his companion, and they each tightened their hold on the prisoner's arms, even as the false Paladin's entire body began to shake and spasm in place. One of them pulled a dagger from his weapons belt, snarling a warning as he did so.

"Stop trying to esca-"

It was only at that moment that Lesrick reached their side.

"No, wait," he told the guard. "This - this happened before."

The guard holding the dagger seemed unconvinced. "You mean it tried to escape before you brought it here?"

Lesrick made a frustrated sound. "No - well, at the time, I thought it was - but it's not actually -"

"Oh, so _that_ was what I heard over the comms," the second guard interjected. He glanced down at the false Paladin in some confusion. "Looks weird, whatever it is."

The first guard reluctantly put away the dagger. "So...is this...a _human_ condition?""

He jerked his head towards Keith. The convulsions were beginning to slow down, but the false Paladin's eyes were still vacant. 

Lesrick shrugged. "As if I would know _anything_ about humans, let alone this one."

He almost jumped when someone yawned and then spoke directly behind his right shoulder. 

"Well. Out of the four of us, you probably do know the most about this one."

Lesrick turned a glare onto Meltorix.

"And _why_ would you say that?"

Meltorix shrugged. "Simple fact. You caught him. You brought him in. You almost took vengeance for your tribe in the cell."

Lesrick glanced furtively at the guards, but neither one of them seemed put out by that last statement.

Lesrick scratched the back of his neck. "Well. Yes, but -"

Meltorix interrupted him, again. (Meltorix was _always_ doing that.)

"Oh, and you were holding this until about a dobash ago."

So saying, he handed Lesrick the end of a -

It was only then Lesrick realized that in his haste to reach the false Paladin, he had dropped the lead.

* * *

Keith's awareness returned after what felt like hours, but could only have been a moment or two. His head jerked upright, then, without warning, it flopped back down onto his chest again. His left arm twitched, then spasmed in place, even as his right arm did the same. If the guards had not already been holding him by the arms, he might have fallen onto the floor.

There were sounds tearing their way out through his clenched teeth, harsh gasps and strangled cries. Keith heard them as if someone else were making them, but he knew that it was him.

For one thing, the other Paladins were still behind that sound barrier spell. 

For another, everyone else was quiet.

Keith's neck muscles spasmed again, pain flashing through the base of his neck, and the sound he made then was...

It was the kind of weak scream that you could only make when you didn't have enough air in your lungs to do it at full volume. It was small, terrified, and more of a gasp then anything else. But of all the sounds Keith heard himself make, it was that sound that scared him the most.

Sparks of red glittered in the corners of his returning vision. There were sounds around him, but there weren't any voices he easily recognized.

Keith's muscles shook when he tried to regain control. It took him longer then he'd thought it would (not that he could ever really know how long it might take for one of these to be over). There was no way to tell.

Just as he thought his body was done betraying him, his awareness faltered and, finally, flickered out.

* * *

_He couldn't move._

_He couldn't talk._

_They were going to hurt him, again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it._


	13. Prompt 13: Breathe In Breathe Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith has a flashback to a time when he wasn't able to move, talk, or get away from whatever was hurting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so, this chapter is fairly intense, at least from my perspective. (I sort of, um, woke up partway through a tonsillectomy when I was a kid, and it wasn't fun. Like, at all.) Obviously I'm okay with writing aspects about it now, but that rather mind-numbingly terrifying life experience is what I used as a point of reference for this chapter. 
> 
> So, please do be sure to use caution when reading this chapter. I rated this fic 'M' overall for stuff like this (aka a really unpleasant and vivid traumatic recollection being used as a point of reference). There's nothing bloody or graphically nasty in this, but there is a lot of unpleasantness, at least from my perspective.
> 
> It's entirely possible that reading this will cause you, the reader, no problem whatsoever. If so, cool! :-) But, if for any reason whatsoever, you think it might be unwise for you to read this chapter, please be assured I will not take it personally. <3 <3 <3 That's what the chapter summary is for. <3

Later, when awareness returns, Keith will know that this is a flashback.

But right now, it feels just as real as it was, all that time ago.

* * *

He’d woken up early, before the surgery was over.

* * *

Keith doesn’t understand what’s going on.

_Why can't he open his eyes?_

Something’s covering his body.

_Why is he lying on his back?_ He doesn’t sleep on his back. He sleeps on his _side_.

But when he tries to turn over, something prevents him from doing so.

It’s only then that he realizes his arms are still lying straight at his sides. He tries to raise his arms, but it feels like they’re taped into place.

He frowns, confused. This is...this is weird. Maybe he's dreaming. Maybe he just needs to climb out of bed.

* * *

He tries to get onto his feet, but - but it feels like his ankles are taped into place, too.

He’s frustrated, now, and more than a little scared.

Maybe he's not dreaming.

Maybe this is... _real_.

Voices above him, some male, some female.

“Crap, he’s awake.”

_How do they know that if my eyes are still shut?_

“Did you give him enough?”

“Yes. I mean, I weighed him right before the procedure, so it should have been enough to -“

"Well, clearly it wasn't."

"Maybe a faster metabolism than usual, or -"

"Enough. Either way, we need to put him back under."

* * *

Keith tries to open his eyes, so he can see where he is, figure out who’s talking, but -

His eyelids are taped shut, too.

The voices continue talking about him, but never _to_ him.

“Fine, let’s give him some more.”

"Yeah, but not too much -"

"Obviously."

* * *

Keith squirms. He wants to move, he _needs_ to move, he’s awake and he doesn’t want to remain lying down, he wants to _get up_.

Something that feels like a blanket is tangling his arms. Keith forces his arms to move, tries to push the blanket away, but it only enfolds his arms again. He can't the blanket off of his chest.

“Guys, he’s moving around -“

“It's fine. He’s not going anywhere.”

_**Watch** me,_ Keith thinks, and he even tries to say it, but something's wedged between his teeth, making it impossible to talk. 

He starts coughing, and the fear grows. 

Where is he?

Why won't these people let him sit up?

_I want to get up, let me_ **_up_ **

In desperation, Keith forces his arms and legs to _move_. Someone says “Woah!” and then -

* * *

His arms _won’t_ _move_. Something is keeping them down, and when Keith tries to brings his hands back up to his face, to try and wrench out whatever is holding his mouth open, he discovers that his wrists are secured to the railing.

He tries, _again_ , to wrest free, but now someone’s holding onto his ankles. Keith fights against it, but then another unknown person’s hands grab hold of his leg and slide his left ankle back to the end of the bed, where it’s secured, somehow, to the railing.

Keith doesn’t understand the finer details of what's going on, but he _knows_ he can’t move his left leg, and now the person's hands are on his right ankle, trying to do the same thing.

Keith thrashes in place, manages to curl up as much as he can with his wrists still cuffed to the bed's railing, and kicks out as hard as he can with his right foot.

_Get **away** from me!_

Someone lets out a ‘ooooomph’, and then the hands around his right ankle disappear for a precious instant.

A roiling mess of satisfaction, fear, and confusion whirl inside Keith’s mind, but his fractured senses scream at him that there are more people in the room.

Only seconds later, someone else pins his right ankle to the bed, even as someone _else_ leans across Keith’s body, and he freezes in mute terror, twisting his head to one side in an effort to avoid the fingers reaching down towards his face.

He's still coughing, still unable to speak. 

_ What are you doing what's going on stop stop **stop** _

He tries to kick out again, but discovers that his right ankle has been secured to the railing, the same as the other one.

* * *

Voices, noises, sounds, right next to his head.

Someone says something about a tube needing to be readjusted and then -

The thing holding his mouth open is adjusted, and something slides out of his mouth. Keith coughs again as it vanishes, but then someone's reaching for his face again, and terror wipes out any rational thought.

He screams. He cries. He fights against the things holding him down, half-sobbing, and his throat feels as if its fire, and he's terrified and hurting and alone.

_No stop please please please please_

Someone’s hand descends upon his chest, pinning Keith in place.

They’re saying something about calming down, but Keith doesn’t believe them, and he _won't_ just lie down and let them hurt him again -

Something made out of a hard material - maybe plastic? - descends over his nose and mouth.

Keith cries out again, but even he can't hear it through the mask. 

He shakes his head from side to side, trying to dislodge it, and then a hand presses against his forehead, keeping Keith’s head still, but it isn’t forcing his head down onto the pillow. It’s just holding him there.

Someone’s asking him to breathe in three times.

They sound like they might be nice, but he can’t tell.

* * *

He never can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to reassure you, dear readers, I am doing okay ;-) I wouldn't write this stuff out if it was bad for my health to do so. In fact, writing out whump can sometimes help me process some of the stuff I'm working through. <3 <3 <3 
> 
> (Not like, in a 'Well I lived through it so its' no big deal' sort of way. That would be beyond dumb. (and untrue)  
> More like in a 'Oi, jeez, that life experience was awful. But, hey, I can finally put words to stuff now, so, that's a win. Oh! A prompt that I can use this stuff rattling around in my head for?! Yesssss! kind of way.)


	14. Prompt 14: Branding

The flashback ends as quickly as it started.

* * *

The first thing Keith sees when his sight finally returns is the ground.

_He's kneeling on the ground._

It takes him a few moments longer to remember where he is, and what's going on.

_Team's in danger. Sadistic Queen. Brand._

His hearing returns more slowly, everything fuzzy and indistinct at first, like a badly tuned radio station. Sounds fizz in and out of hearing, sometimes soft, sometimes loud enough where you just want to haul back a fist and _break_ the damn thing so the noise _stops_.

A voice from somewhere ahead of him gives what must be a command. The words are loud and harsh and painful, and Keith flinches away from the noise before he can stop himself. Even as he does so, his bruised ribs remind him that he's in no condition to move quickly, if at all, and the cuts and slashes twist and ache and -

God, it _hurts_.

Keith bites his tongue in an effort not to make more noise then he already has, but he isn't sure if he'll be able to remain silent for long.

He tells himself he's lived through worse, but he's beginning to doubt that is (still) the case.

Yes, cuts and bruises are nothing new, but...he's never been branded before. He's almost certain it will hurt more than he's expecting.

* * *

Keith watches a few faint trails of smoke curl into the air before he realizes that a fire is burning nearby. He swallows, hard, and closes his eyes. The guards on either side adjust their grip on his arms, as if bracing for a struggle, but Keith doesn't plan on fighting.

He just wants to get this over with.

* * *

The awful source of heat comes even closer, and Keith can sense the outline of the brand from here.

It's wide enough to stretch across his back and reach both of his shoulders.

From somewhere behind him, a voice points out that it seems the prisoner's only just returned to his senses.

Keith wishes whoever it was would just shut up. Are they _trying_ to draw this out longer?

Then Queen is saying something about what the brand stands for, but Keith is much too afraid to listen.

 _God_ , this is going to hurt _so_ bad.

* * *

It's only then that the hottest pinpoint of white-hot heat begins, once more, to draw nearer and nearer to the skin directly between Keith's shoulder blades.

So that _is_ where they're going to brand him.

Keith's arms begin to quiver, and he's almost glad for the guards on either side of him. They're going to be the only things keeping him upright after this is done.

The heated center point of the brand is only a few centimeters away from his skin when Keith notices that his black flight suit has been torn away from his back. Actually - all that remains of the suit above his waist is tattered strips.

In the last few seconds before the brand burns away his skin, Keith's just glad he still has some sort of clothing. It sounds pathetic, but he'd rather not be completely and utterly humiliated in front of his friends before he dies. 

Though, the Queen might be planning to unmake him in a different way. There's no way to tell.

* * *

Then white-hot agony sears into his skin and _stays_ _there_.

That's the worst part.

Keith's vision blurs. He can't see. He can't think. His world is pain.

* * *

Somewhere, amid the horrible pain and noise afterwards, Keith hears familiar voices, but he can't bring himself to raise his head. 

He can't tell if the brand is gone, or if it still presses against his back.

The Queen is talking again, but Keith can't hear what she's saying. 

Even _breathing_ hurts now.

The cuts, the bruises, the burns, it's too much. He's going to pass out.

* * *

He doesn't.


	15. Prompt 15: Magical Healing

The Queen's voice is low, dangerous.

" _Look_ at me, half-breed."

Keith doesn't want to look up, not until he's able to compose his expression into something resembling stoic composure, but the Queen's order gives him no choice.

Slowly, painfully, he raises his eyes. He's only able to catch a glimpse of the two figures now standing beside the Queen's throne an instant before she begins to speak.

"I believe," the Queen says, "these two are _friends_ of yours?"

* * *

Keith cannot speak. He can't even nod. The still-glowing burns curl up and around the back of his neck, pulsing red down what little remains of the unbroken skin across his shoulders and upper back.

Coran.

Allura.

But - they hadn't been captured with the others. 

Had they been caught while trying to rescue their friends?

Or...had they...come to negotiate a truce?

But...that would mean...

Oh, _god_.

_When were they brought in? How long have they been forced to watch this?_

Coran's face has gone deathly pale. Allura...

Allura's crying.

Keith's throat constricts.

Damn it. 

Damn it, damn it, _damn it_.

* * *

Injured muscles twist and spasm, and Keith is forced to drop his gaze. 

The Queen demands that he answer her question.

Keith struggles to speak. In the end, all he can manage is a weak groan of assent.

"...'s..." he rasps. The burning agony of the brand throbs in time with his heartbeat.

* * *

The Queen glances at Allura and Coran.

"Is that right?" 

Allura's hands are clenched into fists, but she refuses to give this sadistic witch - for that is what this Queen is - any further satisfaction.

" _Yes_ ," she spits back, " -and, as one of his - his allies -"

The Queen lifts an eyebrow and smirks back at the two remaining Alteans.

"Oh, I think he's more than simply an _ally_ ," she says, gesturing to one of the aliens standing near Keith.

In answer, one of them reaches out and presses a clawed finger into a reddened section of freshly-branded skin.

Keith _screams_.

* * *

Allura's hands fly to cover her mouth in horror, and Coran whirls around to face the Queen.

"Stop this, _now_ ," he snarls. 

The Queen props her elbow onto the arm of her throne and rests her chin in the palm of her hand, considering the two of them.

"Hmm. Why should I?"

The fingers of Coran's left hand begin to shake. Only someone who knew him very well would realize that sign for what it was - that the Royal Advisor of Altea was a mere dobash away from snapping. 

"Because the _reason_ we are here is to resolve this - issue - without further bloodshed."

The Queen's eyes flicked over towards Keith, then back towards Allura, and finally, back at Coran. When she spoke next, her voice was soft, her tone dangerous.

"You're a sentimental fool, old man."

She nodded towards Keith, who hasn't stopped screaming.

"He'll turn on you. They always do."

Coran's eyes burn in barely-contained rage, but before he can answer, the Queen flicks a finger, and the guards stationed around her throne encircle him without delay.

"Princess," the Queen says. "I grant you one dobash with my prisoner. If you wish, you may waste your magic on attempting to alleviate his suffering during that time. After that -"

She shrugs a shoulder. 

"We'll see."

* * *

Allura rushes to Keith's side. His eyes are closed, but he's still conscious.

The guards don't budge. They just stay there, keeping Keith upright.

She ignores them completely, dropping onto her knees so that she and Keith are facing each other. 

* * *

Someone says his name.

Keith gives a weak whimper in reply.

Cool fingers brush across his neck, and he almost cries out.

"It's okay, it's okay - it's me, Keith - you know - A-Allura?"

Keith swallows back tears. 

"-' _urts_ ," he sobs. He'd tried to stay quiet, but the pain is just too much. "-' _rts_ , 'llura -"

"I know, I know it does," Allura says as her fingers trace the outlines of the brand, "but I'm - I'm going to try and help it hurt less - okay?"

Keith only whimpers again. He can't remember the last time he hurt this much. 

Allura's fingers are cool and gentle, but...

_But the pain isn't getting any better._

" ' _llura_ -"

"It's okay, Keith, I'm - "

Allura's voice fades out, resumes.

"Is this - is this helping?"

Keith doesn't understand. Allura's trying to help him, but -

_The pain's only getting worse._

"N-" he coughs. "N-no - 's - "

Another, all-too familiar pulse of agony tears through his body, and he _screams_ again, fainter this time, without words.

"Keith!"

Allura's voice is thick with tears. 

"Keith, what's - oh, Ancients, _no_ \- "

Then she's gone, torn away from him, and the Queen is...

The Queen is laughing.


	16. Prompt 16: Forced to Beg

Pidge has joined Shiro in slamming her fists against the bars.

While she still snarls the occassional curse words to herself, the Black Paladin has gone silent. Eerily so.

If their friend weren't being tortured in front of them, Pidge might try to talk Shiro out of...well. Whatever mindset he seems to be slipping into.

"I _hate_ her," Hunk declared. The Yellow Paladin still pale and nauseous from the blow to the head he'd taken during their capture, and Lance is still supporting him on one side as they sit on the floor of the cell, but from the way that Hunk's usually kind and gentle face is narrowed into an ugly scowl, it's clear that he means it.

Shiro takes two paces to his right, stops, turns in place, and rams his deactivated prosthetic arm against the bars in front of him. They bend and sway, but the noise cannot be heard outside of their cage.

He's been testing the bars for weak spots like this ever since the Queen had begun torturing Keith.

 _Like a velociraptor,_ _testing for weak spots in the fence,_ Pidge thinks, but she doesn't say it out loud.

Come to think of it, she's feeling particularly bloodthirsty, too.

Well.

Time and a place, and all that, yada yada get out save friend kill bad guys maybe stomp on the Queen's face a few more times then strictly necessary, time permitting

 _See?_ Pidge told herself. _You're a well-balanced crazy person. Just get Keith, and get out. Then, later, curl up into the fetal position and look up healthy coping mechanisms for working through extreme mental stress. Yeah. Yeah, that'll work._

"Don't waste your hate on her," she snarls over her shoulder at the other two Paladins. 

Hunk's expression becomes one of confusion.

"Uh, Pidge?" Lance interjects. "She kinda fits the profile. Like, _perfectly_."

Pidge grunts as she rams her shoulder against the bars in front of her. She's testing the tensile strength of certain areas. 

"I said, don't _waste_ it," she spits. "It's a feeling, right?" She slams her shoulder into the bars beside Shiro. "It either uses you, or you use it. _So **use** it_."

Shiro glances back at her. Pidge isn't certain, but she's almost certain he gives her the briefest nod before turning his full attention back to getting them out.

* * *

Noise. So much noise.

Keith doesn't understand any of it.

He is in so much pain, he can longer understand the Queen's words. It feels like his blood's turning into liquid magma, his muscles to stone, and all the while, the pain tears through his body and slams against his mind and - 

Keith doesn't know when he started sobbing. All he knows is that he's terrified and alone and -

Lesrick whispers something to him about...asking for...clemency...?

Keith doesn't _understand_. He just wants the pain to _stop_.

* * *

Allura's eyes glitter in rage, fury, and despair.

She's never heard Keith beg before.

"I - can't - 'se -"

She's seen him come back from missions half-dead, with injuries that would have been the death of any other human, but she has never, _ever_ heard him beg until today.

"-'se - p- _please_ \- s-stop -"

At those words, the Queen throws her head back and laughs. The laughter is a cruel thing, harsh and sharp and wild. Something in her is broken, and its clear as to how she intends to fix it.

Break something, or some _one_ , else.


	17. Prompt 17: Wrongfully Accused

The aching, searing, biting pain of the brand receeds just enough to allow Keith to open his eyes once more.

Behind him, Lesrick is murmuring to Meltorix. 

Something about...

No. 

Keith can't focus on anything right now.

Not Allura, not Coran, and certainly not barely audible mutters.

His world has shrunk into one fact, and one fact alone.

It _hurts_.

The Queen says something about...Druid magic.

Wait.

She's saying...that Keith has Druid magic...?

* * *

Keith shakes his head. When he speaks, Allura can barely hear the words.

"N... _no_...I...I....don'..."

The Queen cuts him off with a flick of a finger. The metal collar around his neck pulses, once, with a faint red glow, and Keith's voice breaks and fades away completely. 

* * *

In Keith's mind, memories fade and in and out of focus.

Surviving, back when he was just a kid.

Getting between Pidge and...

Oh.

Was...was the Queen...talking about...teleporting...?

Everything is too loud and close and white-hot pain keeps burning away at everything he is, but Keith tries to focus.

Was he...

Did he really have access to Druid-like powers?

He remembers barren planets, the hollow and empty shells of life-forms, and shivers.

God.

No wonder the Queen hates him so much.

She's staring down at him, speaking in a flat and toneless voice.

The Druids had killed many of her people. 

...Lesrick's tribe...

Oh, _god_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the chapters in this last half of this series may be much shorter than the ones that came before. 
> 
> I'll be moving soon into a new place with my family (yay but also aaaaagggh, packing!!), and since it's also the winter holiday season, I decided to complete this series in something of a get-it-done time crunch today. :D <3 <3 
> 
> As always, I LOVE to hear what you enjoyed, which moments really struck you, all that good stuff! :-) Thank you again for reading! :-)


	18. Prompt 18: Panic Attacks

It's too much.

Keith's pulse pounds faster and faster in horror at the very thought that he might be related, however distantly, to those monsters.

The Druids -

They destroyed.

They murdered.

They maimed and slaughtered and -

His stomach roils and churns. 

Dizziness makes the world tilt and sway around him.

He can't get enough air.

His chest hurts.

Sweat beads his forehead. He's starting to shake uncontrollably.

This can't be real. 

It can't be.

_Please_.

**_Please_ **don't let this be real.


	19. Prompt 19: Grief/Mourning Loved One

Even as the prisoner's shoulders begin to shake once more, the Queen stands and speaks of her great loss.

She looks the part of a grieving matriarch.

But...

Beside the prisoner, Lesrick can only remember the harsh, cruel laughter she gave earlier. He wonders if the Druids laughed in the same way when they killed -

A fresh wave of grief surges through his heart.

His tribe.

So many lives lost, taken by creatures who desired power.

He would have exchanged his life for theirs, without thought or question.

But they are gone, and he is here.

* * *

Near him, Meltorix exhales once, softly. 

When he speaks, Lesrick is the only one who hears him.

"I miss them too, you know."

Lesrick swallows once, refusing to let tears form in his eyes.

Later, there will be time to mourn. His grief at the loss of his tribe will not fade, but maybe... _maybe_ , one day, he'll be able to carry that weight without crawling.

* * *

Lesrick looks at the prisoner, then at the two Alteans at the side of the throne, and then, finally, towards the cage where the other Paladins are being kept.

This torture of the half-br - no, of the Red Paladin - is...

It's not justice. Not really.

Lesrick's heart aches. He glances over at Meltorix, and although his last remaining tribe member's expression is as difficult to make out as ever, something tells Lesrick that his old friend sees through it, too.

This entire setting. It's just a display.

The Queen is trying to distance herself from the pain of her loss by inflicting it on others.

* * *

Taking great care not to make any sudden movements, Lesrick leans towards Meltorix.

"So...um..."

He breaks off, then continues.

"...we...have to stop this...don't we?"

Meltorix affects a yawn, and although his posture does not change, he does make sure to roll his eyes in a particularly maddening manner in Lesrick's direction.

_**Yes**. It's about damn time you caught on._


	20. Prompt 20: Field Medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short flashback that Hunk has as he's watching all of this go on.

Hunk forces himself to look away when Keith is branded, but he can't ignore the horrible screaming that comes afterwards.

A memory flickers in his mind's eye.

* * *

* * *

Hiding in a forest, waiting for the Castle to find them.

Keith's scream of pain as a stalking predator's viciously sharp claws cut through his flight suit as if it were made of paper.

The three of them, Keith, Pidge, and himself, huddled together in a small cave.

The way the silence stretched until Pidge told Keith she had to look at the injury, and the fear on her face when she saw the damage.

* * *

Pidge's face, grim and pale beneath layers of dirt and dried blood.

"We have to cauterize it."

Keith nodded, but Hunk stammered that he couldn't be the one to -

Pidge laid a hand on his arm.

"I know, Hunk."

* * *

Keith, asking Pidge to find a stick he can bite down on.

When Hunk had asked Keith if he was sure, Keith had just shrugged his uninjured shoulder once, in a 'I guess,' sort of way.

"But -"

* * *

Hunk was confused, until Keith (sweating and pale) had explained that, as long as he was going to be screaming, at least biting down on something was better than clenching his jaw too tight and maybe breaking one of his back teeth and _then_ having to deal with that additional unpleasantness.

When Hunk had suggested that maybe that wouldn't happen, Keith had exhaled softly.

"It did once. I...I'd rather not...have it happen again."

It was at that moment that Pidge returned with a short stick, about as long as her index finger.

"Okay, so this is the most splinter-free one I could find. I cut it with my bayard, so, um, you know, that it wasn't too wonky or -"

Keith had tried to smile back up at her, but from the way he was trembling, it was difficult.

" -'ks, 'dge."

* * *

They'd done it.

Keith developed a fever less than an hour later.

A day later, the Castle had found them still huddled together.

* * *

After they'd been rescued, and once Keith was safely healing inside a pod, Hunk went to find Shiro.

"Um. Keith had - nightmares, and - Shiro, what _happened_ to him?"

Shiro's eyes turned sad.

"People who should have cared about what happened to him...didn't."

Hunk nodded, slowly.

"Okay."

Shiro looked towards the infirmary before continuing.

"I think that's all he would be comfortable with me saying. When he's ready, he might tell you more."

Hunk nodded again. He didn't trust himself to speak, but before he could leave, the question burst out of him.

"Will he - will he ever - you know - not have the nightmares - anymore?"

The look Shiro gave him was kind, but sad.

"I don't know. I hope so."

* * *

* * *


	21. Prompt 21: Infection

Keith can't get enough air into his lungs.

In front of him, the Queen's image is blurred and distorted, but she's....

She's saying that they have to...cut out the infection.

Keith has a pretty good idea who she's talking about.

 _You should talk to some of my foster parents_ , He almost says. _You would get on **really** well with them._

Then the pain blinds him once again, and he falls back into a state of near-unconsciousness.

* * *

Sometimes, it's all he can do just to get up and start the day, let alone keep his mind focused on the present.

The memories are _loud_ some days. Sometimes, it’s just the voices.

Like now.

Voices.

No.

Just one.

It's saying that he's an infection, and that he'll only bring death to those around him.

Keith squeezes his eyes tight shut, but he can't shut off his hearing.

* * *

Everything about this situation is tearing away at his being, and he’s almost become convinced that he’s an infection, something to be cauterized and burned and cut away, so that the rest of the others can survive and maybe go home, back to families who care about them, but him? He’s expendable.

He always has been.


	22. Prompt 22: Poisoned

He's so cold.

For a second, Keith doesn't know why he's cold.

He just got branded, for fuck's sake.

Shouldn't he be burning up right now?

Another shudder racks his body.

Oh. 

Fever.

This is a fever.

Great.

Allura's yelling at the Queen now, something about...

No.

Keith can't make it out.

He's so cold.

The burn on his back still sears with pain, but it gives him no warmth. If anything, it just leeches the heat out of his body and leaves him colder than before.

Poison.

Coran is telling the Queen she's worse than poison.

Keith isn't sure about _that_.

Poison's pretty bad.

It pretends to be something else until it kills you.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

The Queen...poisoned him...?

Keith's heart sinks.

Yeah.

That...that seems fitting.


	23. Prompt 23: Exhaustion

Noises.

So many _noises_.

Keith can't think.

He's so, so tired.

Exhaustion drags at his limbs, his head, his eyes.

He just wants this to be over.

He just wants to _rest_.


	24. Prompt 24: Forced Mutism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mentions of past child abuse in this chapter.

Nightmares, half-formed memories, tug at the corners of his mind.

* * *

_Ungrateful brat._

_Don't you talk back to me like that._

Pain slamming into him, across the side of his face and against his mouth.

_Never speak to me like that again._

Another slap, back-handed this time. 

_Show some respect._

Fingers pressing tape against his mouth, sealing his words inside.

_Keep that on until I tell you that you can take it off._

Slinking out of the room as quickly as he could, not daring to look back into his foster mother's eyes.

He never should have talked back.

Maybe it would be better if he never spoke again, ever.

* * *

Sometimes, it was still hard to tell what was real, and what were, in the end, simply memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's Note:
> 
> This actually happened to me. I guess I was a smart-ass from a fairly young age. My mother may be a total bitch, but at least I can use some of my own past shitty personal experience as fuel for creative fires.
> 
> *plays a celebratory kazoo for finally learning healthy self-expression* 
> 
> Oh, and as one of the many coping mechanisms I try out - I attempt to routinely hum 'It's a Beautiful Day' as sung by Michael Buble as a way to celebrate my freedom from her control and cruelty.   
> I may or may not have bardic traits in real life, lol. ;-)


	25. Prompt 25: Blurred Vision

Someone's struggling nearby.

The Queen is shrieking something about traitors and -

She orders the guards to kill everyone.

* * *

Keith can’t see. His vision is blurred with tears. He’d tried, so hard, not to lose it, but - 

He can’t see.

His friends are going to die.

He'll never see them again.

They're going to die.

He failed.


	26. Prompt 26: Concussion

As if sensing Keith's weakness, the bad memories surge forwards.

* * *

* * *

Lying down in his room, the midday light searing harshly through the window.

His stomach roiled unpleasantly, but he was too dizzy to even try standing up, let alone attempting to stagger out of the room.

A door slammed shut on the floor below him. The noise physically _hurt_ him, the pain in his head _flaring_ to match the noise and the light and -

Keith whimpered.

His head hurt.

He couldn't even _read_ , it hurt so bad.

* * *

The other kids had been playing tag. They'd let him join in.

He'd been running so fast...and glanced back over his shoulder to grin at the person who was 'it'...

He'd been having _fun_.

* * *

Keith buried his face deeper into the pillow.

He should have known better.

Never lose track of where you are, he berated himself silently. It's your fault this hurts so bad. You're just an idiot who ran into a wall.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Deal with this on your own.

Don't get into trouble.

He didn't want to get in trouble. Especially not for something his foster parents would tell him was his own stupid fault.

_Should have looked where you were going._

_Stop whining._

_Quit complaining._

_Other people have it worse._

* * *

A few days after the headache finally went away, one of the kids told him that he'd run directly into the wall, and rebounded only to slam the back of his head against the concrete walkway in front of the house. He'd been unconscious for...he couldn't remember.

Had it been twelve seconds...? Or...less?

He doesn't know.

Given the pain he was in afterwards, he had probably gotten a concussion.

He'll never be sure.

* * *

The only thing Keith really remembered about slamming into the brick wall was a soundless sheet of white.

* * *

It didn't hurt. Not then.

He just...drifted.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, he was outside on the front walkway, lying on his back and staring up into several pale faces.

"Are you okay?" one of them asked.

He frowned, confused.

"...I..."

He remembered where he was.

If either of his foster parents opened the front door right now, they'd yell at him to get out of the way.

He had to get out of the way.

He rolled onto his side, got shakily to his feet, and staggered a couple of yards further away, onto the front lawn of the house. Once he'd reached that, he'd sat down again, putting his head between his knees.

"...I don' feel...s' good," he mumbled, mostly to himself. 

He staggered back inside, heading straight up to his room.

_Don't let them see you hurting. It's your own fault anyway._

_Just deal with it on your own._

_You are on your own._

* * *

* * *

He hates being on his own.


	27. Prompt 27: Natural Disaster

Lesrick isn't certain how Meltorix managed to subdue two guards in less than a few seconds, and catching Keith before the Red Paladin hit the ground, but he _did_. On top of that, he'd even managed to get the boy's arm over his shoulders.

Meltorix must see Lesrick gaping, because his old friend gives a very sardonic smile.

"What?" he asks, while steadying the barely-conscious Red Paladin. 

The smile turns into a smirk. It fits perfectly amid all the chaos around them. "You don't know _everything_ about me."

Lesrick rolls his eyes dramatically in turn, slamming a knee into an unnamed opponents stomach as he does so. " _Gods_ , you are so -"

His eyes widen.

"Meltorix, get behind me!"

* * *

It's not every day you see four out of the five Paladins of Voltron harness the elemental powers of their Lions.

If it were...

Well.

Not many buildings would be left standing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, get it? Elemental Powers? Or Natural disasters?! :D :D 
> 
> Yes, yes, I know, it's a bit of a strange segway, but it made me giggle, so yay. ;-)


	28. Prompt 28: Accident

Shiro finds a weak spot at the very moment the Queen says that Keith will only bring death to all those around him.

Later, back in the Castle, Lance remembers the expression on Shiro's face as he slammed the weak bar out of place and forced his way through before the others could so much as blink.

That moment was all that Allura and Coran needed to attack the soldiers hemming them in.

* * *

A lot of what happened after that was...well. Chaos was too contained a word to really give it justice.

After all, it's only five letters long.

* * *

As she channeled the power of her Lion, Pidge remembered a time when she was much younger.

Matt had opened the back door just as she was coming up the steps, not seeing her until it was too late.

She’d tumbled backwards, cutting her lip open and getting a few impressive bruises.

Before she had fully registered her fall, Matt was at her side, screaming for their parents.

He’d gone with her to the doctor’s office, and had gotten her an ice cream cone on the way home with his very own allowance.

Her mom had fussed over her the whole day after.

The very next day, her dad had put in a screen door.

* * *

Keith might not have any family back on Earth.

But his real family?

It's right here.

* * *

There's so much _light_.

Later, Pidge will wonder why she was surprised that Shiro had managed to harness the power of lightning when he was, after all, the Guardian of the _Sky_ , but in those few moments before all hell breaks loose, she focuses on the simple fact that Keith is going to die unless she does something, _right now_.

 _When you put it like that,_ she tells herself, _it makes things a whole lot clearer._


	29. Prompt 29: Emergency Room

Someone's telling Keith that his friends will be fine. It sounds like Lesrick, or maybe Meltorix.

Keith wishes he still had the capability to move, so that he could hit whoever is telling him that lie.

They won't be okay.

The Queen had ordered her guards to _kill_ them.

He's failed.

* * *

"Keith!"

"Let him go, you -"

"Shiro, wait - I think - I think...they're..."

* * *

Bright lights.

Keith squints, too tired to try and figure out where he's being taken this time.

It...it feels like the lights on the Castle. Shades of blue and white merge into patterns like frost on the walls sometimes, but only if you're looking at them really closely, or are having a near-death experience.

Keith almost laughs at his own lame attempt at a joke.

Out of the two possibilities, he's _definitely_ in the middle of the second one.

* * *

Someone's holding his hand.

Keith wonders if it's a nurse, dismisses that thought almost immediately.

Nurses were too busy. 

Visitors probably held your hand, but it wasn't like he knew anybody here.

Where _was_ here?

No.

Didn't matter, really. Not unless he starts to hurt again.

He's laid down on his side, and the burned skin on his back causes him to inhale sharply and flinch involuntarily.

He really, _really_ doesn't want to start hurting again.


	30. Prompt 30: Wound Reveal

Lance races through the Castle's corridors, intent on fetching the materials Coran needs. As he does so, he remembers the last time Keith was in the healing pods.

* * *

It had been a search and rescue mission. Keith hadn't wanted to stop searching the rubble of a city for survivors, not even to eat something. He barely stopped even to drink water. It was only when it finally got dark that he'd come back to the Castle at all.

At dinner, Keith hadn't eaten much at all. Then, when he made to push his chair away from the table, his face had gone sheet-white. 

Pidge was sitting across from him and noticed something was wrong a milisecond before Shiro reached Keith's side.

"Keith, what's wrong?"

Keith's fingers gripped the edge of the table so tightly, the knuckles were white.

"Th-think I'm - 'm - "

Reaching Keith's other side, Lance gasped and pointed to a dark red stain on Keith's jacket, near the left shoulder.

"Uh, Keith?"

His voice had quavered something awful.

"Is that - is that your blood?"

Keith's head lolled forwards, but he forced it back up.

"I - d-didn' - th-think s-so," he said, right before passing out.

* * *

Lance ran even faster, blinking back tears. 

Keith would be okay.

He'd need time - a lot of time - to recover from this, and it wouldn't be easy.

But they would help him heal.

No matter how long it took.


	31. Prompt 31: Aftermath

Keith hears his name, but he doesn't want to open his eyes.

Maybe, if whoever this is thinks he's dead already, they'll just leave him alone.

The voice says his name again. Something about it tugs at his memory, but it remains out of reach until Keith hears his name for a third time.

 _Oh_.

That's - 

That's _Shiro's_ voice.

All of Keith's energy is spent, but he drifts off to sleep knowing that his friend is near.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Okay, so, the actual prompts for this Day 31 were: Experiment/Torture/Left for Dead - and I couldn't think of a way to make a reference to anything except the last one. 
> 
> And now, I am going to go get myself some ice cream to celebrate finishing Whumptober 2020 before the end of 2020 ;-)
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3 :-)

**Author's Note:**

> I always love to hear feedback from readers! :D <3 (And incoherent screaming and key-smashing are completely acceptable <3)


End file.
